


Calming the Storm

by captaincastle



Category: Pilgrimage (2017)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Medieval, Romance, no graphic smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 00:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11544039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captaincastle/pseuds/captaincastle





	Calming the Storm

You knew it was dangerous to travel on your own. But after the loss of your family in the city, you wanted to get away.

Too much memory.

You had a cousin in a village who had a place for you to stay. And you were almost to the village when the storm rolled in.

The rain was so heavy, and the thunder was so loud you were frightened. You saw the lights of the village but you didn’t know which cottage belonged to your cousin. You may not even be in the right village.

Lightning struck a tree nearby, you jumped causing you to stumble. You cried out as you fell, you felt your ankle twist and it sank into the mud.

You tried to get your foot out of the mud, but you couldn’t see through the rain and your tears. Thunder rumbled overhead and you were shaking in fear.

That’s when you saw light. There was a monastery up ahead, and the front doors opened. Light spilled onto the ground.

Someone had heard your cries.

A large man, and a young boy came running to your aid.

The bigger one helped you stand, but you cried out because your ankle was still stuck.

“My ankle!” you cried.

The bigger man grabbed the younger one, and made him hold onto you. He knelt and freed your ankle from the mud, then lifted you in his arms. The younger one grabbed your things that you had dropped and followed closely behind.

You looked at the face of your rescuer as he brought you inside. You jumped again when the thunder clapped, but he didn’t even blink. He walked you inside and carefully set you down on a bench in front of the fire in the kitchen.

An older monk saw you being carried in, and saw your swollen ankle. The older monk left to fetch a blanket and when he returned, your rescuer was on his knees in front of you.

He was wrapping your ankle. He barely looked at you. But you looked at him. Water droplets were falling from his curls. His beard was thick, and his eyes were focused, but sad. His hands were warm and you shivered from the warmth. He felt your shiver, but told himself it was from the cold.

When he was finished he gave you a quick nod and left.

The older monk wrapped the blanket around your shoulders and sat down next to you. The younger monk warmed his hands by the fire and apologized that your things were soaked, and he asked about your ankle.

“I’m sorry to intrude.” You said to the older monk.

“Nonsense. You’re injured and soaked to the bone.” He nodded at the younger monk, “fetch her some soup. She could use the warmth.”

He nodded and left.

He’s sweet you thought. But you wanted to know more about the one who saved you.

‘Stupid’ you thought. Monks take a vow of celibacy, they can’t take wives.

But your eyes couldn’t help but wander over to him as he walked out of sight into a hallway.

“He’s not a monk,” the older monk said. He saw your cheeks turn pink.

“Who is he?” you asked, though you were blushing.

“The Mute,” he replied, “he’s been here for several years, he fought in the crusades. He’s never spoken a word. He’s one of the best men I know. Humble, and so willing to help others. He has nowhere else to go, so he stays here.”

“Here’s your soup!” the young monk smiled as he handed it to you eagerly.

You graciously accepted it and thanked him.

“Do you have a place to stay for the night?” the older monk asked.

You shook your head no.

“When you finish your soup, and I’ll take you to a room,” he smiled kindly.

The room he took you to was small, but cozy.

The Mute was kneeling in front of the small fireplace, he was adding wood to the flames.

You thanked the older monk and he left. Leaving you and the Mute alone.

“Thank you for everything,” you told him. He turned from the fire to look at you. He nodded a simple nod, his eyes were sincere.

You shivered again, “my clothes are still wet,” you huffed a little and walked towards the fire. The Mute nodded again and left. In moments he was back, in his hand was a folded up shirt of his. He offered it to you, and he blushed when you smiled at him.

“Thank you!” you hugged the shirt to your chest, and he ducked his head.

Thunder clapped again, and you jumped a little. The look of concern he gave you melted your heart. He made sure you were alright, and he left. His little room was across the hall from yours. Careful not to put pressure on your ankle, you carefully walked over to shut the door behind him.

You walked over to the fireplace, and undressed. You laid out your wet clothes on the floor in front of the fire and put on his shirt. You blushed feeling the shirt on your bare skin. The shirt was soft and warm, you’d half expected it to be scratchy because of how it looks. You smiled a little smile to yourself.

This shirt is in a lot of ways like its owner.

You blushed again when you thought about him wearing it, and how you’re envious of the shirt. You were in his arms already tonight, and you miss that feeling.

You curl into the blankets on the bed, and wonder if you’re drawn to him because you’re just lonely or if there is something else.

Sleep found you quickly as you listened to the rain, and thought about the mysterious man across the hall.

When you woke, your ankle was a little better, but still not strong enough to support you. You carefully knelt to get your dress off of the floor. You hated to take off this shirt. It swallowed you whole and made you feel safe.

But you dressed anyway.

You opened your door to see the Mute in his room across the hall. His door was open. He was shirtless and his back was to you. You saw the cross tattoo and scars covering his skin.

A gasp escaped your lips and he turned. You felt embarrassed now, you felt like you saw something you weren’t supposed to see. He didn’t look angry, he just looked sad and a little embarrassed himself.

You took a couple slow steps and handed him the shirt sheepishly.

“Thank you again,” you nodded and walked down the hall towards the kitchen. You smelled food.

As you walked away out of the corner of your eye, you swore you saw him put on the shirt you’d given him.

No, it couldn’t be.

The young monk interrupted your thoughts by calling your name. He saw you struggling to walk, and came over to guide you to the table. Several other monks were already seated, and once everyone, including the Mute was seated, a prayer was spoken, and food was passed around.

The young monk was sitting next to you, the Mute was across from him. The older monk was next to the Mute, and across from you.

You could barely look at the Mute, you kept blushing. You noticed he didn’t look up from his food hardly once. Almost as soon as he sat down, he was finished.

You looked up when he got up, and the younger monk answered the question on your face.

“He usually gets more than one helping. He works hard. Big breakfast.” He said in between mouthfuls.

But instead of getting seconds, the Mute went outside.

The young monk seemed puzzled.

“I wonder if he’s ill. He has been acting strange since last night. Maybe the cold?” he wondered aloud.

Your cheeks turned pink, this man was big and burly, he was strong. He was only out in the rain for a few moments. There is no way he got ill from that. Whatever it is, it has to do with you. And you’re not the only one who noticed.

The older monk saw your cheeks. Then he began to smile.

“Can’t you see brother?” he asked the young monk. “it’s because of our guest here.”

Your cheeks began to darken, when the young monk looked your way.

“Me?” you said aloud not meaning to.

Luckily the attention of the older monk was drawn away, but the younger monk still saw. He smirked to himself, like he knew a secret.

Changing the subject quickly, you asked if you might have an escort to your cousin’s cottage. Since you didn’t know where it was, and your ankle was still weak.

The young monk was happy to volunteer.

“I’ll tell him to get a horse ready!” he said and ran off in a flash.

Oh no.

Your stomach started to turn. Nerves and excitement filled you up. He made yo so nervous! Because he wasn’t going to talk, and that left you to talk. And when nerves got to you, that means you babble. And who knows what embarrassing things you’d say.

You thanked the monks, and made your way outside. The Mute and the young monk were waiting by a horse. Without warning, the Mute swung you up so you were seated on the horse.

All you knew to tell them was that your cousin owned an inn. Both men knew where it was and lead to you through the village to it.

The Mute helped you down, and avoided your gaze.

“Thank you again for last night, for helping me, and carrying me and for your shirt. It was nice and warm and I- thank you again. Goodbye!” you said quickly and all but ran inside the inn, hopping on one foot.

Trying not to die from embarrassment, you found your cousin. 

They had a room for you to stay in at the inn, and you worked there to earn yourself some money.

It had been a couple days since you’d arrived but already you missed your mystery rescuer. You’d dreamt about him every night since you met him.

A knock came at your door, and you were surprised when you opened it to see the young monk.

At first you were worried, but then you saw he had a smile on his face.

“He does not know I am here but I needed to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“He’s thinking about you.”

You felt a blush creep up your neck.

“How can you tell?”

“I’ve seen him smile more in the past three days than I have in all the years I’ve known him.”

Your hand flew to your mouth to hide your smile.

“What do I do?”

“Eat lunch with him, he takes his lunch outside. He likes the air. I often join him. But he would like to see you again. I can tell.”

So you packed a lunch, and followed the young monk to the monastery.

You didn’t know how you were going to eat with your stomach tossing and turning.

“Are you sure he wants to see me?” you asked as you walked. “He barely made eye contact with me.”

“He is shy around you. He acts different. But when I mentioned you yesterday, I saw him smile, a real smile. He tried to hide it from me like he has tried to hide the other smiles, but this one was big. He smiled at you after you closed the door the other day. He tried so hard to hide that smile as well. Saw it though.”

Your cheeks were growing darker and darker as this kid spoke.

“And it is obvious you have feelings for him, so it makes sense. You should eat together.”

Great. Now you were going to go eat with this man who can’t talk and before you’ve arrived your face is already flushed.

Your stomach lurched when you saw him, he was seated in the shade under a tree. You swallowed, and took a deep breath as you approached him.

He sat up, and gave a look to the young monk, who promptly made his exit. The Mute looked nervous.

“Hello!” you said as cheery as possible but it came out as more of a squeak, “the last time we spoke I fear I made a fool of myself, and I wanted to apologize. Would it be alright if I joined you for lunch?”

He nodded, confusion was in his eyes. He didn’t think you made a fool of yourself. He thought you were adorable.

You sat down, and opened your pack lunch.

You took one bite of food, and felt bile rise up in your throat.

“I fear I do not know what to say,” you laughed trying to make yourself feel better.

You wanted to ask questions, but he wouldn’t answer. So you just started talking about why you’d come to this place.

He nodded and listened as you spoke. You felt like his eyes were watching you, and your movements aside from just listening.

Once you were both done eating, you suddenly asked if you could come back tomorrow. You winced after you said it, but he nodded.

And you saw a TINY hint of a sparkle in his eye. No smile yet, but you were determined to get one.

Day after day, you joined him for lunch. You talked, and he listened.

But he spoke too, in his own way. His face would react to a story, and it told you more about him.

He seemed really hurt when he heard about your family, and that you felt alone.

You watched his face lighten when you were around. And you got more and more comfortable wit him.

Sometimes you didn’t even talk at all. Just felt the breeze, and listened to the wind in the tree.

“It is nice to listen sometimes,” you said one day.

He nodded.

“You are always listening. I wonder what sounds you like.” You meant it more as a thought, but when you turned to see him, he pointed at your mouth.

“You like my voice?” you flushed and covered you mouth with your hand.

Gently he stroked your pink cheek, and gave you a look that seemed to ask ‘why you are blushing.”

He was simply stating a fact, and your cheeks were red.

“Really?” you asked again. Now it was his turn to flush a little.

The wind blew, and brushed his curls in his face. Without thinking you reached up to brush them off his forehead.

You just realized you’d never really touched him like that before.

You’d been eating together for weeks, only times you didn’t was when the weather was bad and he was inside for the day. (You hated those days).

Right when you realized what happened, someone called for him, and he left quickly.

You made him nervous, and he made you nervous and you couldn’t stop smiling about it all.

And the moment he left, you already wanted to feel those curls again.

As you walked home, you thought about every time you had touched. When you first met and he leaned you against him to steady you, when he helped free your ankle, and when he carried you. Your fingers might have grazed his when he handed you the shirt, and when you gave it back. There were occasions when you’d sit down close to him for lunch and your knees would touch, or elbows would bump.

He’s not clumsy, and suddenly you thought back to every “accidental” touch. He wants to touch you but he doesn’t know how. He can’t ask for it, so he has to in other ways.

You wanted to plan something, you weren’t sure what, but you wanted to let him know you would like to be more affectionate with him.

The next day, you sat down for lunch together and you heard a little mew.

You both looked up and saw a kitten was stuck up in the tree.

“Oh no!” you said standing. “I do not think I can reach!”

The Mute looked at you for a moment, and you understood. He knelt and lifted you a little so you could get the kitten.

“I got it!” you called, and he lowered you gently to the ground.

The kitten startled and dug its claws into your hands.

He took the kitten carefully from you, and began to calm it gently. The kitten hissed, and the Mute sat down against the tree. Kitten still in his hands.

The kitten calmed when he gave it a bit of food. You watched the kitten began to calm, and it crawled up and began to lick his beard. You began to giggle and your laugh brought a smile to his face. A real one, and he didn’t try to hide it. He even looked at you when he smiled.

It’s a start, you thought.

The next few days went on like normal, but then one day something changed.

You walked to the tree, but you didn’t see him. You walked around to the other side of the large tree. You saw the gash in it from when it was struck by lightning. But you saw him, he was on the opposite side of the tree this time. You always faced towards the monastery, towards the village, but this time your backs were to it. Something is different.

As soon as you sat down, you asked, “why are we sitting on this side?”

You also noticed he didn’t have any lunch with him.

He looked nervous, more than usual.

“What is it?” you reached for him to make him look at you. You felt his beard under your palm and you couldn’t help the blush rise in your cheeks.

He reached out and touched your red cheeks with nervous fingers. He cradled your face in his hands, and pulled your face towards his for a gentle kiss.

“Oh,” you whispered when he pulled away. He seemed to search your face to ask if that was alright, but his answer came when your cheeks only darkened.

His hands still held your face and his thumbs stroked your blush.

“Is that…why we sat on the other side of the tree?”

His smile was bashful, but there was a glint of something you’d never seen before in his eyes.

“Why don’t you have any lunch?”

There was the heavy bashful smile. He looked away, and rubbed the back of his neck. His cheeks were red and you saw the tips of his ears turn red through his curls.

He was so nervous about kissing you he didn’t even bring any lunch for himself.

“I think I love you,” you whispered.

His eyes shot up and he looked at you, a hint of fear in his eyes.

You panicked realizing you probably said it too soon. You finished your lunch and not much else was said.

Did he regret the kiss already?

You went home worried, and unsure if you should come back for lunch the next day.

You did, but you felt awkward.

“Did I speak to soon yesterday?” you asked finally.

He grabbed your face to make your look at him, and he shook his head no. He pulled you in for another sweet kiss, and this time he wound his fingers into your hair. Your fingers found his curls, and one hand went to his beard. You scratched his jaw and he let out a sigh.

A sigh!

You’ve not EVER heard any sort of sound from him like that.

When the kiss broke he had a huge smile on his face and such a look of love in his eyes.

And the touches from here on out only got more affectionate.

He liked kissing you. That was his way of showing you his feelings for you.

You liked how his kisses tickled from his beard, and the feeling of his curls on your hands.

You giggled when he kissed your neck once, the beard tickled, and he pulled away grinning. He playfully poked your tummy, and made a silly face, to get you to laugh.

Laughter overtook you and he pulled you into his lap to hold you. You were tucked under his chin, you fiddled nervously with the little string that tied his shirt.

“I want to ask you something but I’m scared to say it,” you whispered against his chest.

He pulled you up so you would look at him.

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to speak.

“I’m scared,” you whispered. He cradled your face tenderly in response. He wanted to know what you wanted to say.

“I wish that we were married. I do not care that you do not speak. I do not care what you have done before. I long to hear your voice, I ache for it. But this is you, and I want to be with…you.”

His eyes looked sad, and overjoyed all at once.

He pulled you in for a deep kiss, when it began to rain.

You both stood and moved to get inside, you kissed a couple more times in the rain, but then you parted ways. You’d see him tomorrow.

You had a skip in your step when you went to lunch today. You didn’t care what people thought. You loved this man, even if he didn’t talk. And you wanted to marry him, and he wanted to marry you.

Your cousin thought you were being foolish. Falling for a man who didn’t speak? It’s one thing if he physically cannot, but another that he chooses not to. Your cousin doesn’t understand, that you don’t need words to express love, but there is no reasoning with them.

You do wish to hear your love speak, but you don’t doubt his affection for you.

When you neared the monastery, you didn’t see him by the tree. He always was seated at the tree when you arrived, but not today.

The young monk saw you walking and approached you.

“Where is he?” you asked.

“He is at the well, but I-“

You didn’t hear the last part, all you heard was that he was at the well, and you spotted him. His back was to you.

You walked up behind and wrapped your arms around him in a hug, resting your head on his shoulders.

What you had thought would be an affectionate act, turned quite the opposite.

It startled him, and he quickly turned around in your arms, knocking you to the ground.

In horror he realized what he’d done, he panicked and ran inside the monastery.

The young monk, and another monk nearby stopped to help you to your feet. You dried your tears on your sleeve, but they kept falling.

“What did I do?” you sobbed.

“It was not you Miss,” a monk said.

“He had a rough night last night,” the young monk whispered, “I heard him. He was having a nightmare. I heard him shouting.”

“He can be skittish if approached from behind, you could not have known.” The monk continued.

You feel horrible. The day you talk about marriage and that night he has nightmares.

“Give him some space, he will be alright,” a monk said.

“Where is he?” you asked the young monk. He nodded and motioned for you to follow him.

He led you inside the monastery, and you heard a loud crash, and a roar of pain.

The young monk led you to the Mute’s room, the door was closed. You heard another loud crash from inside.

Unsure of what to do, you knocked.

“Don’t leave,” you whispered to the young monk, it’d be helpful to have friendly faces around you thought.

Slowly the door opened, you could just see past him, but what he had in the room was smashed and broken.

He had a broken look in his eyes.

He stepped out of the room, and looked down at the floor. Tears were in his eyes, and his knuckles were bloody. From punching a wall you guessed.

Gently you reached out to touch his face, your fingers slipped into his beard.

You wanted him to look at you, but instead he dropped to his knees in front of you. He pressed his face to your stomach and wrapped his arms around you. You placed your hands on his head, and stroked his hair softly.

The commotion had drawn the attention of several monks. You looked at the younger monk with tears in your eyes. You looked at the faces of the monks gathered, they all felt hurt for their brother, and for you.

“I am a fool,” you heard someone say.

It took you a moment to realize it was the man embracing you.

“What?” you began to cry harder but a smile formed on your face. His voice!

You forced him to look up at you, you cradled his face gently.

“I am a fool,” he repeated, “you could not possibly wish to marry me now.”

“I have never wanted to marry you more,” you smiled, and smoothed his curls out of his face. “You scared me today, but I know you would never hurt me on purpose. And I saw that.” You nodded towards the closed door of his room. The demolished bits of furniture and his bloody knuckles tells you he cares, he cares so deeply he hurt you.

“I want to be there for you,” you told him, “I want to help.”

“So…you will still have me?” he asked.

You nodded, your eyes filling again with tears.

He stood and wrapped his arms tightly around you as he kissed you deeply. His tears mixed in with a laugh, as he kissed your lips over and over.

The monks were overjoyed seeing their brother so happy.

The older monk stepped up with a smile, “I could marry you right now.”

You and your love looked at each other with smiles and love in your eyes.

“Would you want to? Now?” he asked you as he stroked your hair.

You nodded and felt a heat rise in your cheeks.

“Wait! What is your name?” you giggled petting his beard.

“Will my name make you change your mind?” he teased.

You blushed, suddenly you were nervous in his presence. This was real, this was happening.

“James.”

“James,” you repeated smiling. You laughed as he pulled you in for a huge hug.

You married him outside, under your tree. The tree that had been struck by lightning. Your fall from being startled led you to meeting this wonderful man.

James.

When the little wedding was over, James took your hand in his arm.

“Lead the way,” he said gently.

He had only been outside the inn where you lived once, and that was months ago. He’d never gone himself to visit because he couldn’t ask for you.

“It is good we did this today,” he joked, “since I no longer have any furniture.” He said a little embarrassed.

“Can I ask about that?”

“You can ask me anything you want my love. I owe you a lot of answers. Yesterday when you spoke about marriage, I wanted it so badly. But I was afraid, I would not be enough for you. The old nightmares crept in last night and I cannot control the fear I feel sometimes. I fear I hurt you today, but my instinct is to recoil away.”

“James, I-“

“In anger I broke the furniture in my room because….I did not know what else to do. For that I am sorry.”

You stopped walking to press a kiss to his cheek. You saw the pink rise in his cheeks under his beard.

When you walked inside the inn, and went to your home, it was your turn to blush as you stopped in front of the door.

“What is it my love?” he asked, you stood frozen.

You looked at him, and didn’t answer. It was your turn to be the silent one.

“Oh,” he said with a soft smile. Your cheeks darkened, and he smoothed your hair behind your ear. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, “fear not, my love.”

He opened the door and guided you into the room.

It was small, and cozy, like his old room.

A bed, a small table with two chairs, a little fireplace, and one small window. A chest was in the corner for you clothes, and a bedside table had one small candle.

“James! We left your clothes!” you said as you shed your cloak.

“I will not need them tonight my love.” He said innocently, but that sent a jolt of nerves down your spine.

The room felt so much smaller with him in it. He has such a large presence, you are very aware of him and what will happen later.

“Would you like something to eat? I could bring us something from the pub downstairs,” he offered, but your stomach was in knots.

The more he spoke the more nervous you became.

But needing time to think, you nodded.

He walked over and held you face with one hand and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Why do you tremble my love? Are you frightened?” he asked as he pulled away.

You swallowed and tried to speak but your mouth was dry.

Your eyes flicked over to the bed. He saw your eyes, and pulled you in for a gentle hug.

He kissed your hair, and squeezed you tight. “I will be back in a moment.”

He left and you felt your lungs burn. You took a deep breath and let out a shudder. You loved this man with everything you have, but all of you interactions had been so innocent. Not that they weren’t intimate, because even his knee brushing yours as you ate together was an intimate action for the two of you. But looking at the bed in the corner frightened you.

You slept in it every night, and you often dreamt of what it would be like to have his arms around you in it. But now it was going to become a reality.

You jumped when the door opened. You were sitting at the table, and he smiled warmly bringing in a tray of food.

“Our relationship grew with us eating together, thought this might calm your nerves,” he said setting down the tray in front of you.

On it was a loaf of bread, some soft cheese, two cups of wine, and a little slice of a cake.

He sat down, and bowed his head in a silent prayer.

When he finished, he grabbed the loaf of bread and began to cut it with the knife.

“Are you not…nervous? Have you been married before? What is going to happen?” you blurted out really fast.

He was about to put a piece of bread in his mouth, but set it down to grab your hand.

“I was, long ago. She died and so as not to be consumed by grief I left to fight in the crusades. Which only made my grief worse. And I do feel nerves yes. It has been years since I have felt the comfort of a woman. I worry I will not please you.” He mumbled the last part, but then a sly smile appeared on his face, “and as for what will happen? You will have to wait.” He blushed at his own comment, but he smiled when he saw you smile.

You smiled because his fears made your fear of the unknown calm a little. You couldn’t help but smile at him. Just looking at his appearance he looks as though his is barbaric in nature. And you know he’s been brutal in the past, but right now you see this gentle soul. His eyes are nothing but gentle, and his shoulders are relaxed. He eats the bread casually and there is nothing animalistic about him in this moment.

When you finished eating, you stood nervously. You were ready, but you’d need him to guide you.

For so long you had been the one in the relationship who spoke, and now you were speechless waiting to hear his next word.

You reached for him, and he stood. Your fingers fumbled to untie his shirt.

“Easy,” he said in a soft whisper. He picked up your hands and kissed your fingertips.

He backed up until he reached the bed and he sat down. You stood frozen again.

With your hands trembling you started to take off your dress, but he stopped you.

“Come here,” he said gently. He pulled you down so you were sitting next to him on the bed. He grasped your face and kissed you tenderly.

He kissed you until your head was spinning. He pulled away and smile that small smile he always smiles. He playfully poked your tummy, like he’d done before to get you to laugh.

He untied the ties on his shirt first, and pulled it off over his head.

You felt tears prick up in your eyes. This was your first time to really see him shirtless up close. One of the main reasons you are so nervous is feeling exposed, and here he is, letting himself be the first one to be exposed. By not speaking for so long he’s had so much hidden. But now it’s out in the open, and he’s showing you a glimpse of his past.

You trace your fingers on the scars and watch his skin jump as you touch him.

“Does that tickle?” you giggle.

He gave you a knowing look, it did more to him than just tickle. While it was an emotional moment for him, it was very intimate and physical. Having your hands on his body was turning his blood hot with desire.

His body gave him away, and a blush began to blossom on his chest and neck.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you,” you whispered.

Right then you heard the clash of thunder outside, and it began to rain.

You jumped when it thundered. Still have bad memories from all those months ago.

“Yes, but…” he paused to pick up your hand and kiss your palm, “without them I would not have come to the monastery.” Thunder cracked again. “And without that, you would not have come to the monastery.”

You smiled and stood up. You started to unlace your dress but your fingers were still trembling.

“Here, let me?” he asked.

Normally you just slipped the dress on over your head, but there were laces up the back and all along the arms. He loosened all of those, and any time his fingers touched skin you shivered.

He was quiet, giving you small glances from time to time as he moved. When all the laces were loosened he sat back down on the bed. You were standing in front of him, holding the dress to you, afraid to let go.

He didn’t say a word, he just smiled, and nodded at you, telling you to let it drop.

You moved your hands to your sides and with his help you tugged the dress down and off. It pooled at your feet and all that remained was a plain white slip. It had two simple ties on the shoulders, and James smoothed his hands up your arms to untie them.

When it fell your hands jerked, but he grabbed them and kissed your hands.

His eyes looked at your skin, and he was speechless.

His mouth hung open a little and he blushed when he looked at your face.

“Have you gone back to your old habits of not speaking?” you giggle. Your cheeks were warm from his gaze and you wished he would speak. You were still memorizing his voice and you couldn’t take feeling so exposed like this and him be so silent.

“There is nothing I could say that would express your beauty,” he said and stood to pull you into his arms.

He buried his face into your neck and placed warm kisses on your skin. His hands explored and you shivered under his calloused touch.

In a quick motion he removed his pants and laid you down on the bed to make love to you for the first time.

It was all new to you, but there was something he did that you did not expect.

He didn’t speak.

He guided you and showed you what to do, but he didn’t tell you anything. He showed you with his hands, he watched your face while he silently asked if what he did was ok. You felt an ache in your heart because he was doing what you told your cousin, love doesn’t have to be spoken for it to be real. For it to be felt.

He watched you, and listened. He watched your skin dance, and watched chills rise. Saw the blossom of red in your cheeks, and the marks left behind from his beard. He held your hand when it shook. He squeezed it to help you relax.

While he didn’t speak, he still would moan at a pleasurable feeling, or would chuckle if you squealed at being tickled.

When the high was over and your hearts were beginning to calm, he still stayed on top of you. Except he slid down so his head was resting on your chest.

Suddenly you felt tears well up in your eyes.

He heard you sniff and looked up to see your eyes brimming with tears.

“What is the matter my love?” He leaned up on his arm.

“I feel foolish.”

“Why? Tell me.”

“To be held by you and joined with you in such an intimate fashion…You have been through so much,” you said and stroked his curls, “And for you to be so gentle with me. I-“

He smiled warmly, he loved your passion.

He leaned up to kiss your tear stained cheeks and the corners of your eyes. His beard tickled, and you let out a small giggle.

“Remember when you asked me what sounds I liked to hear?”

“Yes,” you sniffed. Your hands still in his curls.

“That little laugh is one of them.”

“Really?”

He nodded and pressed a kiss to your sternum. He settled his head back down on your chest and you played with his curls some more.

“Do not feel foolish for the tears. You have a tender heart. One of the things I love about you.”

Your hands smoothed over his scarred back.

“I think I loved you the moment I saw you.”

“Only because I rescued your ankle.” He teased.

“No,” you laughed, “because you were so willing to help, and I felt cared for you by you even then.”

“The others helped you too,” he replied.

“But it was just something about you.”

“I think I fell for you then as well. You reminded me of me. Wounded and seeking shelter from a storm. I fell in love with your voice, when you babble with nerves.”

You flushed, and he looked up at you to smile.

“Thank you for loving my voice,” you giggled.

“Thank you for bringing mine back.”

Your heart began to thud in your chest, and since his ear was pressed to it, he could hear it.

“This is quickly becoming a new favorite sound,” he said in a sleepy voice.

His breathing evened out and he fell asleep. You laid in the peace and quiet, with his arms around you. The rain a calming sound in your ear, but his quiet breathing soothed you more.

You sleepily played with his curls as you grew tired.

You were almost asleep when you felt something warm on your chest. You almost giggled because at first you thought it was drool, but then you realized it was tears.

He was crying.

Why was he crying?

“James?” you whispered.

He sniffed quickly like he was embarrassed he was caught.

“Is something wrong?”

He took a deep breath and you felt the hot air blow out from his nose on your skin.

“It was easier when I did not speak,” he laughed trying to lighten the tone.

“What is it James my love? Pray tell.”

“I have often dreamt of this moment, you holding me and your hand in my hair. I never thought…..I never thought I would have this again. I never thought I would deserve…this. Now that is has become real…because earlier today when I pushed you, I thought….I feared that this would never happen.”

You shushed him gently, “you are so worthy. Go to sleep James. I’ll always be here.”

He sighed again and nuzzled your chest making you giggle. You felt him smile against your skin as you drifted off to sleep listening to the rain.


End file.
